Hell Hath No Fury
by PJ XD
Summary: EDITED - Volturi mob initiate Bella Swan screwed up, and Aro has given her her last chance - recruit the coveted Edward Masen, or the ones she loves will suffer. Problem is, Edward has no intention of signing up - he accepted the syndicate's invitation with an agenda of his own. And it just so happens that the person Bella is desperate to protect is the one Edward intends to kill.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – This story is not for anyone of a sensitive disposition! It's also rated 'M' for violence, strong language, and eventual lemons.**

**This was originally Emmett/Rosalie, but it was changed because I decided that their story was going to be a different one, written in the same world. Emmett will get a cameo later in this fic, but we won't meet Rosalie until her tale, to be called "Paved With Good Intentions". But Bella and Edward's story needs to play out before Em and Rose's can make any sense.**

**The storyline is based around Rachel Vincent's Unbound series – I'm going to deviate from the plotline of those books, if you've read them, but the feel, fantasy elements and some scenarios are the same. (Also, the personalities of Bella and Edward are taken from Kori and Ian). If you haven't read them, I suggest you do, they're awesome.**

**I own nothing. It depresses me daily, but still remains true.**

**PJ**

**x**

* * *

**_Bella_**

You know how some kids grow up afraid of the dark?

Not me.

It used to be that I thrived in the darkness. We were lovers, the shadows and I. They'd caress my skin and envelop me in their cool embrace. We moved through each other. They were a part of me, and I of them.

I was a Shadowwalker. A Traveler. In the Skilled world, that meant that I could transport myself from one place to another simply by stepping into a pool of darkness in one place, and out of it in another place altogether.

Like I said, we were one being. Me… the darkness… I never knew where it ended and I began. My home. My comfort. My salvation.

Not anymore. Not since they put me in the basement. Not _this_ darkness.

_This_ darkness… it wasn't _true_ dark. It was a sick, anemic version of the very force that had once sustained me. A perversion of it. The infrared bulbs that blazed invisibly above my head ensured that. They kept the shadows weak. Shallow. Dead.

I didn't know how long I'd been in this twisted dark. Long enough for the latest bruises to have faded. Long enough to have forgotten the color of the four walls that boxed me in. Long enough to no longer remember the precise shade of brown that my hair was. Long enough… well, just long enough.

I lay on my back on the lumpy, dirty cot that passed for furniture in my cell, looking up into the impenetrable blackness above. In true dark, my night vision was better than the average human's. One of the many perks of being a Traveler. But in _this_ dark, all I saw was black, empty oblivion.

Idly, I wondered when the last time I'd showered was. A century ago, if the smell of me was anything to go by. Strange… all my senses were weakened by my nauseating hunger save for the olfactory. Food felt like a faint memory. Water came infrequently enough that my throat was cracked and desiccated. I'd decided a while back that I wasn't so much being kept alive as being slowly killed. Maybe that was unintentional. Maybe not. It was probably just another method of torturous punishment.

I'd been a bad, bad girl.

There was a metallic click to my left, and a sudden influx of light momentarily blinded me. I pressed my hand against my eyes in an attempt to lessen the shock to my ocular nerves.

I didn't need to see to know what the light meant.

Light meant a visitor.

And visitors meant pain.

The fear that spiked my adrenaline then was the first real emotion I'd experienced in days, and I clung to it tenaciously, determined to feel anything other than the ache of my wounds. My heart hammered against my fragile chest, and I welcomed it. It was the only thing that made me sure that I was still alive, at least in body.

An electronic beep cracked through the silence, louder than a gunshot in the stagnant air.

"Time to wake up, Isabella."

I knew that voice. It haunted my nightmares. Once my mentor, now my jailor, and he took great pleasure in that fact. He took great pleasure in every sadistic little thought that ever entered his savage mind.

He stood propped against the wall when my eyes finally adjusted enough to regain my vision. Still in his early thirties; tall, slim and attractive in a way that exuded power, he eyed me with a mixture of disgust, contempt and perverse satisfaction.

Caius Volturi. Cai was the younger brother of our fearless and psychotic leader, Alvaro. He'd shed the last syllable of his first name around the time that his big brother had shed the first syllable of his own, and now Cai Volturi was the name that was feared and revered across the city; as the trigger hand of the most deadly mob boss, the second-in-command of the Volturi syndicate.

He'd taken me under his wing when I joined. Built me up on a pedestal, and then torn me down just as quickly. And it had been a fucking long way to fall.

But then, I can't think of another syndicate employee who'd still be breathing if they'd done what I had. I was lucky to be alive.

If you could call what I was doing living, anyway.

"Isabella," he said again, and I struggled to focus on his voice, on anything.

I twisted on my front and buried my nose in the dirty mattress. I didn't know why he was here, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction by asking. Whenever Cai came a-calling, it only meant that James would be following close behind, ready and willing to deliver another 'punishment'.

I knew it was only because Cai's wedding vows prohibited him from delivering my punishments personally. At first, I'd tried to convince myself that James was only following orders, like we all did. But now I knew better. He just wanted to defile me, and Cai loved to watch, even if he couldn't participate.

_My, my. How the mighty have fallen. _

"Bella, I won't ask again."

He hadn't actually asked anything, but that didn't matter. He was predictable in what he expected – he wanted me to look at him. I wouldn't. He could lock me away and let James torture and abuse me if he wanted. He could tie my hands with words so that I couldn't fight back. He could rob me of both daylight and dignity until the end of time. He'd been doing all of that already.

But he couldn't force me to watch. Even in not meeting his gaze, I was still exhibiting that one last flicker of defiance that proved to myself that I might be down, but I wasn't out. Not yet.

"Aro's on his way down," Cai said quietly. "You're getting out."

My head snapped up at that. I couldn't help it. I'd been down here for weeks, at the very least, and now, I was finally being freed from my cage. Unless that was all a cruel joke; it wouldn't be the first time I'd had a carrot dangled in front of me, only to have it snatched away.

"If you're lying, I'll kill you," I rasped, but we both knew that wasn't true. I couldn't kill Cai, even if I could get near enough. My orders prohibited it – and those orders were bound in blood, compulsion and the will of the Binder herself. I'd tear myself apart trying to break free of my bindings before I even got the gun to his head.

He chuckled. "I'm not lying, Bella."

No sooner had he said it, then the door slid open with another metallic whir. Framed in the narrow entryway was another man, of similar build to Cai, only his hair was as dark as his brother's was fair. Their eyes were the same soulless dark, dark blue, though, and in my nightmares, they glowed red. Both pairs.

The Volturi brothers might be flesh and blood, they might each have wives and parents and hobbies, even, but to my mind, they would always be more monster than man.

"Aro."

I hated myself for the relief I felt when I saw him. He was playing my savior, today, but it was on his directive that I had been shut away down here in the first place.

Of course, that was largely due to the fact that I'd allowed a member of the Black syndicate to put a bullet in his chest. In his own home. Under my guard.

The most fucked-up part? I didn't even feel the slightest hint of remorse.

I'd do it again in a heartbeat, only this time I'd let the fucker bleed out. I was forbidden from killing him myself, thanks to my bindings, but I'd give my own life so long as I got to watch him die bloody first.

Aro stood like a steel tower as he regarded me. He was both the backbone and the heart of the Volturi syndicate – the puppet master pulling all of our strings through a combination of flattery, intimidation and violence. And, when that stopped working, he turned to the bindings to keep us in check. Although, honestly, his thinly veiled threats were usually enough to keep the initiates in line.

I had always been the exception, for the most part, but look where that had gotten me? Caged in the basement and routinely raped and beaten into submission. I was the horse that couldn't be broken.

Except that now I was damaged beyond repair. Inside, if nothing else.

Aro had locked me up and thrown away the key. Allowed his brother and his associates to have free reign over me. I thought he'd erased my existence from his head, until…

Until he needed me. Why else would he have come?

He was still watching me, and I knew what he was seeing. The face that I'd once treasured when I saw it in the mirror, now reduced to sharp angles and yellowing bruises and cracked lips. I used to be beautiful, I think. Now, I imagined I resembled one of the stone gargoyles perched on the turrets of the mansion.

He looked… pleased. "Does it hurt, Isabella?"

"You know it fucking hurts," I mumbled. He stepped forward and seized my chin, twisting it from side to side as he examined the damage done on his orders.

"Do you want it to stop?"

I wasn't going to let him hear the answer to that. I wouldn't beg. It wouldn't do any good, anyway. "Why didn't you just fucking kill me? You've killed for less. You've made _me_ kill for less."

Aro tilted his head, studying me. "I thought that this would be more poetic. Our very own morning star falling from grace to land in the darkness. Plus, I wanted you to be a warning."

"You told the others?" I hissed. It was hell enough when I'd thought that I was a secret torture victim. Knowing that the other initiates were privy to the knowledge of my torment made me ache in a thousand different ways, none of them enjoyable.

"You were an object lesson, Bella. I _showed_ them."

He pointed to a thick pane of one-way glass that I hadn't noticed before. Humiliation burned like fire in my veins, and I thought I might actually explode with the heat of it.

I'd had an audience for my torment.

"You let them watch?"

"Only those who could use the warning."

"Alice…" I gasped, my eyes wide. I'd complied with a veritable shit-storm of torture to keep her away from the darker side of the life we'd become entrenched in. Alice was far too fragile to see what they really were capable of. She was raw, and vulnerable, and it was my job to protect her from the harsher realities of syndicate life. If she'd seen me like this, I'd failed.

Aro shook his head. "No. Alice only knows that you've been serving your time as penance for your actions. She's unaware as to the extent of your punishment, much less a witness. Alice doesn't need any encouragement to behave herself."

_Unlike me._ He didn't say it, but we both heard the words hanging in the air as though he'd spoken them aloud.

"Good." Thank God for small favors. Maybe Alice would never have to know.

"I have an assignment for you, Isabella," Aro continued. "A chance for you to earn your life back. His name is Edward Masen."

"Who?" My mouth was dry. This was it. I was really getting out of the basement.

"He was caught on camera at a football game displaying an almost unheard of level of Skill."

"What happened?" I was curious in spite of myself. It took a lot to catch Aro's attention. A person had to be truly extraordinary. Alice and I were recruited for our abilities. Alice more so than me. She was blessed and cursed in equal measure as the most powerful Binder on record. (A Binder was able to exert their will on a contract or an oath, making it impossible for you to break it without physical harm). She was the one who had sealed _my_ contract.

Skill-wise, I was only useful in my shadowwalking. It wasn't a rare skill, and my distance range was only a little better than average, so Aro wasn't _too_ bothered about keeping me on staff. Alice was his crown jewel, and I just came along for the ride, helped by both my pretty face and my deadly accuracy with a knife.

If Aro wanted Masen badly enough to end my hell, it was because he had something worth coveting.

"He plunged the entire stadium into absolute darkness in under thirty seconds. Of course, to the untrained eye, it merely looked like a power outage. He's a Blinder, and an enormously powerful one at that."

Thirty seconds, and the whole stadium went dark? I'd never heard of such a strong Skill before. Especially in a Blinder. They were rare enough as it was, and notoriously weak when it came to their range. Throw in the sheer magnitude of his power…

Aro liked his special people, all right.

"You want him killed?" I didn't know if I had the power to do that. I was only one woman, and even though I was a damn good shot, I wasn't convinced that I could fight a guy who dealt in darkness the way I did with success.

Still, I was trained, and I was fast, so my odds were better than most at taking him down. I was an exceptional assassin.

He shook his head again. Apparently, my ninja skills would be going to waste.

"No. I want you to recruit him."

I frowned. "That's not my thing. That's why you have Heidi."

More beautiful than I used to be, and much more congenial, Heidi was the one who schmoozed and flirted and fucked, and had Aro's potentials eating out of the palm of her manicured hand. Me? I was the stone-cold bitch who put a bullet between their eyes, no questions asked. Back in the day, anyway.

"You're doing it. I extended an invitation to him, and he accepted, on the proviso that his tour guide is in her mid-twenties, petite, brunette, brown-eyed and well-versed in the life."

"Tell Heidi to lie," I spat. I was pushing the 'mid-twenties' descriptor at twenty-seven, but Heidi would be well under it. She was barely old enough to drink. "I'm a soldier, not a fucking saleswoman."

"You're whatever I tell you to be, Bella. And you'll be whatever _he_ wants until you get him to sign. His tour guide, his plus one, his best friend, girlfriend and whatever the fuck else he's looking for. Do you understand?"

_Ha_. Did I ever. "You want me to fuck him."

"I want you to do everything it takes to keep him happy, _whatever_ that may be. If he wants _you_, then you'd better be the best fuck he's ever had, otherwise I'm personally marching you back to the basement and throwing away the key."

My stomach pitched. "What if I can't recruit him?"

Which, let's face it, was a very distinct possibility.

"Then it's back to the basement, only this time, you won't be alone. I'll bring Alice along for the ride. And, Isabella, I _will_ kill you. But I'll make her watch while I do. And then I'll let James keep _her_ company."

My blood turned to ice in my veins. Alice was my little sister – my junior by eighteen months. I'd only signed on with the syndicate to protect her when she joined, like I had done for her whole life. I didn't resent that. Keeping her safe was my _job_. She was one of only a handful of people in the world that I actually loved.

"No one touches Alice. You swore it in my contract."

"And you swore to defend me with your life. Instead, you let me get shot. Your incompetence led to my sister's death. A breach for a breach, don't you think?"

I couldn't answer. I was too busy fighting the cold dread in my heart.

"This is your last chance, Isabella. Do not screw it up. Or Alice will be the one paying until long after you take your last breath."

* * *

The Volturi brothers left me shortly after that threat was delivered, and I had been ordered to wait on the cot until someone came to get me. Fear, nausea and myriad other emotions warred within me as I sat there, legs drawn up to my chest.

They'd left the light on, this time, and I had a feeling it was a deliberate move designed to torture me all the more. I didn't want to look at my emaciated and battered body; so instead, I kept my gaze fixed firmly on a crack in the wall, counting down the seconds.

Another metallic beep sounded, and the door latch unlocked with a click.

"Bella!"

My head jerked around so fast that I nearly gave myself whiplash. Standing in the doorway, wide, chocolate-brown eyes stretched to the size of saucers, was Alice. In my absence, her dark brown hair – a few shades darker than my own lank, mahogany tangles – had been sheared off into a stylish pixie-cut that framed her face well. Her clothes; plain black slacks and a green silk blouse; were neatly pressed and immaculate.

Relief flooded through me. She looked _well_. Healthy. Whole.

The exact antithesis to how I must've looked.

That was another reason for my relief; her blatant horror over the ragged state of my appearance was in no way forced, which meant that Aro had been telling the truth – Alice really _had_ been clueless about the extent of my torture.

Without another word, she hurried to my side and gently prized my hands away from my knees, guiding me off the bed. I obeyed the soft pressure of her skin on mine – it had been a long time since anyone had touched me with such tender care. With her four inch heels, we were practically the same height, and her eyes grew shiny as they stared into my identical ones.

She pulled me into a hug, gingerly trying not to aggravate my injuries. My arms went around her, breathing in her familiar scent of white musk and lilacs. It felt so good to have her back beside me, to sense the sisterly love and devotion that bonded us more absolutely than any contractual compulsion ever could.

"Oh, Bella," Alice whispered, tears standing in her doe-eyes. "What the hell have they done to you?"

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stand tall, though even the simple act of straightening my spine sent a sharp pain shooting almost right down to my toes. "It's nothing, Ali. I'm fine."

She narrowed her eyes at the lie, but seemed to decide that I was too fragile to argue with at this moment in time, because she wrapped one arm around my waist and began to tow me out of my cell. It was further proof of how much weight I'd lost that she now had the fuller figure, of the two of us. I'd been athletically built when I'd entered the basement hell room, with decent curves. I'd comfortably filled a C-cup. Now, I would be lucky if there was enough meat on my frame to wear a size zero, and a training bra would probably be a better fit on me than any of my old ones.

Alice led me to a small bathroom filled with gym-like showers. She busied herself turning on the water of one and running it until it was pleasantly warm, while I stripped myself of the grayish, ragged underwear that had been my only clothing during my imprisonment. Naked, I stood beneath the jet, allowing my sister to massage shampoo into my lifeless hair while I scrubbed at my filthy skin with pomegranate soap that she'd no doubt taken from my own toiletry bag. The water at my feet ran black with the amount of dirt that came off me.

As I showered, I asked her the question that had been plaguing me for some time.

"Am I… I mean… how long was I down in that cell, Alice?"

"Six weeks," she murmured, her voice completely hollow. I sensed that she was about to say something else, so I refrained from asking a follow-up question. "Bella, if I'd known what they were doing to you, I'd never…"

I waved off her guilt. I didn't want it. "No, Alice. You didn't know. And even if you _had_ known, there was nothing you would've been able to do. Don't you dare blame yourself."

"But just _look_ at you." I'd never heard her sound so sad. I jumped as her fingers brushed what I knew would be a set of half-healed bite marks on my upper back. "They're monsters, Bells. Every last one of them."

"I know," I replied, rinsing off the last of the suds and shutting off the water. Alice handed me a fluffy towel to wrap around my body, and then one for my head.

"I'll kill them," she whispered as she watched me rub the excess water out of my hair – which, mercifully, felt silken and soft once more. The heat of her hatred brought me up short, because Alice really couldn't afford to start talking that way. I didn't want Cai to get the idea that he needed to 'deal' with her if she couldn't be silenced.

"Don't talk about killing, Alice," I muttered, turning my back on her as I toweled off my legs, resting one foot at a time on the narrow ledge that served as a holder for conditioning lotion. "You don't know what it involves. It's not as simple as it sounds."

I spoke from experience, although I would've happily hunted and killed the Volturi bastards myself.

"Why did they stop, Bella?"

I winced, but I kept my face neutral as I turned back around. "Aro wants me to do a job for him."

Alice's eyes widened. "Who are you gonna have to k…" She choked on the word 'kill', and for once, I was actually happy enough to explain my assignment to her. Even at twenty-five, even being a card-carrying syndicate member, Alice was still so innocent compared to the rest of us.

And dear God, I fucking hoped she stayed that way.

"I'm not. It's not a termination. It's a recruiter thing."

Her eyes stretched even wider. "You? Recruiting?"

"That was kind of my reaction, too, but apparently this guy was really specific in what he was looking for in a whore."

Alice was the one who winced that time. "You're not a whore, Bells."

"Fine." I started to clumsily dress myself, noticing belatedly that the clothes were actually my sister's. Good. My old size would probably have fallen off me with all the weight I'd lost. "Recruiter. Escort. Indentured fuck-buddy. Whatever fucking works."

"Bella…" When Alice looked at me, her expression was so crestfallen that it made my heart hurt. I felt instantly guilty for my outburst, and I opened my arms to her.

She folded herself into the hug, burying her face in my shoulder, and for a second, I could almost pretend to myself that we were kids again, and she was hugging me after her first boyfriend, Mitch – total fucking asshat – had dumped her at the homecoming dance.

But then Aro's parting threat flashed in my mind, and my stomach rolled over on itself.

I wasn't a fucking kid anymore. And I needed to learn how to seduce with the big girls if I had any hope of getting Alice out of this mess unscathed.

It was her that I was focusing on, because, honestly?

There was no fucking way I was getting out of this alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

**_Edward_**

"Have I told you that you're an idiot?" Jasper asked, eyes raking over the file in his calloused hands for the millionth time. I knew what he was looking at. My fake life, expertly implanted into search engines, school records and social networking sites, to name a few. Utterly foolproof.

I hoped.

"Only about twenty times since we got in the car," I replied, trying to make light of it. I refused to acknowledge the sweat that was making my palms slick, or the nervous way I kept bouncing my knee.

"You'd think it'd have sunk in by now."

I glanced over at him. His pale face was lit by nothing except the ethereal green glow of the numbers on the dashboard clock. "What happened to moral support?"

"I decided you'd better not come to rely on it, seein' as how you're about to walk into a place where morals come to die."

I leaned back into the leather passenger seat, shutting my eyes against the view of the colossal house looming up ahead of me. It could have been beautiful, with the manicured gardens and the sweeping circle drive visible through the gaps in the wrought iron gates, but I'd never seen anything that looked more like a prison.

Albeit a prison of discriminating taste.

"You're all about the comfort, Jazz."

"Just doin' my duty as a friend, is all." He sighed, and although my eyes were closed, I could tell he was looking at the palatial house through the windshield. "Are you sure you're ready for this? They're going to eat you alive in there, Ed."

"Then may they choke on my corpse."

Jasper punched the button to bring on the overhead light, and I wrinkled my nose at the sudden flare of orange behind my closed eyelids. Cracking open one eye, I surveyed him.

He looked uncharacteristically serious, but that was probably thanks to the job at hand.

"This ain't funny, Edward. The syndicate ain't a group of pampered housewives, and this ain't some two-bit hustle you're pullin'. These people are dangerous. Think lion's den. And you, my friend, are a slab of meat."

"An appetizing one."

"Edward, I'm not fuckin' kiddin' around."

"I know." I decided to sober up. Enough quips, I needed to get my head in the game; otherwise, as Jasper had already pointed out, I would end up getting it bitten clean off. "And I also know what's at stake here, Jasper."

He exhaled through his nose, like there was something he wanted to say, but knew better than to push my buttons when I was about to do something so important. "It's just… you haven't changed. You're still smart-ass-ing your way through life, chargin' into danger armed with nothin' more than a wing and a prayer, even after six years."

"That's not true," I argued. The kid I'd been when we first met was idealistic, but unassuming. Intelligent, but naïve. And he'd been burned by harsh reality. The man who had risen from that poor bastard's ashes was different. Meaner, harder, and desiccated by his thirst for vengeance. "Now, I'm armed with knowledge, motivation, and a fucking good plan."

Jasper nodded. "Are you sure you don't want some back-up? I have an extra monkey suit in the trunk. I could throw it on and head in there with you."

I appreciated the gesture, but we both knew it was an empty one at best. Our plan had been carefully orchestrated for every scenario, but in each event, I was all alone in the hornet's nest. It had to be that way. These monsters in men's clothing were experts at spotting a pretender, and I was uniquely suited for this job.

It was hard to catch someone in a lie when they didn't even technically exist.

"Thanks, but no. It's got to be me, Jazz. You know if you show your face in there, they'll know that you're an Independent within the hour."

They'd also know that Jasper was as good with a gun as he was lousy with women, that he was short on patience but quick with a retort, and that his guilty pleasure was singing along to the Mamma Mia DVD that he had stashed behind his bookcase in his apartment.

Because Jasper's life was an open book. He had an identity. A past. He was a known face both East and West of the river, if you asked the right people. But me? I was nobody. Nothing.

As far as anyone knew, the name that was once associated with _this_ face was now engraved on a tombstone in the East City's largest cemetery.

To the rest of the world, Edward Cullen was five years cold in the ground, thus enabling 'Edward Masen' to stroll into enemy territory and do what needed to be done.

"Can't argue with that," Jasper sighed, but he sounded relieved, if you ask me. I couldn't say that I blamed him. Before I could lose my nerve or my lunch, whichever came first, I booted open the passenger door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Get out of here, then."

He lingered with one hand on the gear stick, leaning through the open window to look at me with a wistful smile. "Good luck, E.C. Try not to get your brain splattered all over their expensive marble floors."

I grinned, though I felt anything but cheerful. "I'll do my best."

I watched my best friend as he twisted the key in the ignition and the car slunk off into the night until it was swallowed up by the shadows. Then, steeling myself, I squared my shoulders and headed up to the gatehouse to begin the most dangerous liaison I would ever attempt.

I had to pretend to be wooed by the bread and circuses the Volturi syndicate threw my way. I had to act as though I wanted to sign away my life to their organization, even though I played for the other team. I had to get close enough to count their fucking eyelashes.

It was the only way I'd be able to gain access to her. The deadliest weapon in the Volturi syndicate's vast arsenal. The girl with the legendary abilities. The girl who was responsible for the death of my fiancée, Tanya, and a world more hurt besides. The girl they kept away from the action, locked up in her ivory tower so that nobody could take her and her freaky precognitive gifts away from Aro's greedy clutches.

My objective was clear. My aim was true.

Kill Alice Swan.

Security had taken one look at my face and simply waved me through the gate. Making sure to throw me big, phony grins as I walked past. They'd obviously been expecting my arrival. I was betting that everyone on security detail had been familiarized with my name, picture and vital statistics, considering how I would be spending the next week here getting my ass kissed by every initiate the Volturi syndicate had to offer. It was their jobs to fall all over themselves trying to get to know me, and to act as though the sun shone out of my every orifice.

At least until the ink was dry on my contract.

A contract I had absolutely no intention of ever signing.

I'd barely made it to the curved marble steps at the impressive entryway when a brunette draped artfully in a blue silk gown came sashaying out of the handsome double doors to meet me.

She was stunning. A bit young for my personal tastes – she looked like she was barely at the legal drinking age, and I wasn't a kick in the pants off turning the big 3-0 – but she had skin like muted gold and eyes that were almost impossibly silver. She extended one hand to me before she had even made it to my side, a blinding smile lighting up her features. I took it, and brushed her knuckles with a kiss.

"Mr. Masen. I'm Heidi De Cruz. Mr. Volturi told me that you would be arriving soon, so, naturally, I came out to greet you." Her sentence was punctured by a flutter of her eyelashes. I tried to hide my disappointment. Heidi was a knockout, for sure, but not what I'd requested in an escort.

Because I'd made damn sure that there was only one woman in the whole of the syndicate who had fitted my description.

"Are you accompanying me for the next few days?" I let just the right amount of dissatisfaction leak into my voice, and I was pleased to see her smile falter slightly. I didn't mean to offend, but I needed her to be aware of my implication. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she clicked her fingers at the sentry by the door and he leant forward to open it, muttering into a handheld radio.

Heidi rallied when she met my gaze again, and directed me into the sumptuous foyer with one hand. I tried not to be impressed by the overt wealth and grandeur of it all.

I wasn't here to be seduced. I wasn't a potential recruit in a pinstripe jacket. I was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Unfortunately not," she answered as she steered me by the arm through the small crowds of people in formal wear. "Mr. Volturi has someone else in mind for you, but I'm more than happy to take you inside for your first official meet and greet."

Her tone held the promise of many more meetings. As her eyes raked my body from head to toe, I also caught a flicker of interest in her expression. I knew I wouldn't crack any mirrors, but the reminder that I was no slouch in the looks department was oddly comforting.

The syndicate seemed fixated on appearances. Maybe they wouldn't have the foresight to glimpse my true intentions if they were hidden in an attractive wrapping.

Or maybe that was optimism to the point of foolishness.

A member of the Volturi security team stood at the foot of each staircase we passed, a radio in one hand and the other curled loosely around the gun holstered to each of their hips. They stuck out from the rest of the crowd in their all-black uniforms like sore thumbs, but I supposed that was the idea. Each set of security-trained eyes followed my progress as I walked, unrelenting until I was out of their sights.

I wasn't contracted, and therefore I was a threat.

Still with one hand resting on my forearm, Heidi led me through another set of double doors and into the main event. It felt a little like stepping out of a frying pan and into a raging inferno.

Heads turned as we entered, and I found myself shaking hands with a long procession of people whose names and faces I didn't have a hope of recollecting as we moved through the partygoers. They were all keen and enthusiastic, genial, even. It was charming, but it was also a lie – every flute of champagne and every thousand-watt smile of it. The party was intended as a well-orchestrated sales pitch, and I had to pretend that I was buying.

Heidi was still chatting away, but I wasn't truly paying attention. I was too busy scanning the crowd for the faces I'd studied and the names I'd memorized. The important people – not necessarily to the power circle, but to my mission.

After about thirty minutes, I heard the telltale muting of nearby conversation that could only mean one thing. As I turned towards what I assumed was the epicenter of the sudden hush the crowd parted, and I caught sight of a group of five figures gliding towards me across the shiny floor.

Aro Volturi reached me first, his arm around the waist of a woman in a burnt-orange evening dress I knew to be his wife. She was of Italian origin like her husband, and although she went by Sally, I knew that her full name was the pretentious mouthful Sulpicia.

Even though I shouldn't have known that, because it wasn't a matter of public record.

Beside her was Cai, the right hand of the syndicate, and perhaps the one with the nastiest caliber and rap-sheet to match. His hair gleamed like white gold in the soft lighting, and his wife, Dora, stood resplendent beside him in silver. She couldn't have been older than twenty five.

The last member of the party was Marcus. I knew from my research that he had recently lost his wife in an undisclosed altercation that took place in this very building. Even if I hadn't known, the blank mask of an expression he wore would probably have tipped me off. I'd seen it in the mirror two years ago, when Irina had been ripped away from me.

I felt a twinge in my chest, and fought it off. I couldn't afford to feel sympathy for the Devil, even if he was heartbroken. He probably didn't even have much of a heart to break in the first place.

"Mr. Masen, this is Aro Volturi and his lovely wife, Sally." Heidi made the introductions in a smooth voice, though I already knew who everyone was.

Aro stuck his hand out to shake mine, and I took it. "Mr. Masen. It is a genuine pleasure."

"Likewise." We shook.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself so far?" His smile was winning, but it didn't seem to quite reach his eyes. My mom always used to say to my brother Peter and I that you could tell a person was no good if he didn't smile with his eyes. She might've been onto something, because Aro Volturi was pure, undiluted evil.

"Absolutely. The city is incredible, and your home even more so." I inclined my head in the direction of the marble carvings to illustrate.

"We pride ourselves on our décor," Aro replied. "Mr. Masen, may I introduce you to my brothers, Marcus and Cai, and his wife, Dora."

I shook hands with them all in turn, exchanging polite and utterly fallacious smiles.

Cai scowled slightly as I shook his hand. I knew from my research that he was less comfortable with the gentile civility that Aro so effortlessly hid behind. He'd much prefer to wear his monster badge with pride.

"That was quite an impressive show you put on at the stadium," Cai said, raising his glass to me slightly in a malicious half-toast.

"Well, thank you. I honestly didn't think anybody would be watching me." I shrugged through the lie, flashing a winning smile of my own. He pursed his lips like he didn't believe me.

"Still," Aro said, dragging out the word with relish. His dark eyes glittered in fiendish delight. "It was an impressive display. I was certainly impressed."

"It was very gracious of you to invite me into the syndicate," I said carefully, layering on just the right amount of faked sincerity. "I never expected to be held in such high esteem."

I feigned a nervous laugh.

"Oh, nonsense. We're very anxious to have you," Aro replied, waving my self-deprecation away with one hand. "And the best we have to offer is yet to be shown to you."

"You mean, there's more?" The surprise in my voice sounded authentic. I hoped.

"Oh, yes. We want you to be shown it all, Edward. And here's just the woman for the job!"

My gaze followed his as a gap opened in our little circle, and two figures slid between Cai and Marcus to join us. My eyes zeroed in on the first. She looked about twenty, though I knew her to be five years older than that, and her exceptionally pretty, slightly pixieish features were set into a sunny smile. She was too small and slight for me to consider her attractive in reality, but I hadn't mentioned that, because I'd wanted to have her assigned to me.

Alice wore her short dark hair in stylish spikes, and her chocolate-brown eyes sparkled with a vitality that I thought might even make me smile, were I not privy to who she really was.

And what she'd done.

"Edward Masen, this is Alice Swan, one of our most prized initiates," Aro said cordially. Alice shook my hand lightly and practically danced across the circle to stand beside her boss when he beckoned her. Her every movement was executed with the grace and poise of a ballet dancer, and I couldn't help but be mesmerized by it for a moment. So much so, that I almost missed Aro's next statement. "And _this_ is the woman I was telling you about. Isabella Swan. She's been on my personal detail for six years."

I snapped my eyes from Alice's tiny form and stared at Aro in mute horror. What was he talking about? I was _supposed_ to be shown around by Alice.

I'd been meticulous with my description – mid twenties, established syndicate member; a pretty, lively brunette with brown eyes. I hadn't needed to go into physical attributes other than hair and eye color, because there was only one living girl who fit that description in the whole of the syndicate. Being saddled with another was _impossible_.

Because Isabella Swan was impossible. All of my sources were adamant that she'd died weeks ago.

Yet, as my eyes followed the trajectory of Aro's finger, I was forced to conclude that my sources had been woefully wrong, because there she stood, as alive as I was.

Isabella was an unwelcome surprise. Empirically, she was everything – and I do mean everything – I could _actually_ want in a woman. Long, mahogany hair that shimmered with a hint of red tumbled over her shoulders and framed the striking features set into her heart-shaped face. She was quite small, and slim, less so than her sister, though, and Isabella had curves in all the right places. To top this vision of perfection off, she had the most amazingly expressive chocolate brown eyes I'd ever seen. Eyes which were currently narrowed in my direction as she pressed her full lips together in a thin line.

She was clearly as happy about being my tour guide as I was to have her. That is, in short, not at all. Don't get me wrong, she was gorgeous. But I wasn't there to be wooed. I was there to kill Alice.

And Isabella would only get in my way.

I held out my hand to her, trying to recover my face, and she looked at it like it might bite her. With what was clearly an effort, she placed her slender fingers in mine, and jerked her wrist up and down once, before snatching her arm back as though she'd been burned.

I had no idea what to make of that, and I was too busy reeling from the unintentional bait-and-switch to delve any deeper into analyzing her behavior.

"Well then, Mr. Masen, we shall discuss business later, but for now, I shall leave you in Bella's capable hands." Aro nodded to me, and then flicked his hand at the rest of the company, who melted away into the throng as soon as they were dismissed.

Leaving me alone with Isabella Swan.

I watched her for a moment, neither of us speaking. Her scarlet satin dress was sinfully tight, somehow managing to show off every smooth line of her body without actually showing any flesh. It was almost indecent, how beautiful she was, but as I looked closer, I saw that, beneath her make-up, her lips were slightly chapped, and her skin slightly pallid, as though she'd been recovering from a recent bout of serious illness. I began to notice more flaws, the longer I studied her. Her cheekbones were a little too sharp, her intriguing eyes a little too big for her face, and her hipbones poked through the material of her dress a little too much. She'd lost weight recently, and quickly.

_How could she be alive?_ I wondered. She'd been MIA from any and all photographs in the last two months. I'd thought she was dead. I was sure of it.

I'd been wrong, and I'd fucked up my plan because of that oversight.

Isabella wasn't watching me like I was her, I realized belatedly. She was watching the rest of the room, her eyes scanning the crowd as though she was planning out an escape route in her head. Maybe she was. I'd never had a woman desperate to get away from me before, and I wasn't sure whether to be insulted or relieved by her behavior.

"So, you're one of Volturi's personal bodyguards?" I asked, wanting to break the insurmountable tension.

"I was," she replied with a jerky shrug. Her posture tensed, and I followed her gaze, until my eyes rested on Alice, who was being steered towards the champagne fountain by Cai. He had one hand resting on the small of her back. When I turned to glance at Isabella, I saw that her eyes were narrowed to slits. She clearly didn't approve of his casual gesture.

Unless it wasn't as casual as it perhaps appeared to me? Or maybe Isabella was jealous? No, I decided instantly. That wasn't it. There was genuine disgust on her face as she regarded Cai's retreating back

She was just being a big sister and worrying about Alice.

That was when I realized that maybe the plan wasn't a complete loss after all. Here I was, with a weapon at my disposal. A very pretty weapon.

Isabella and her sister had a good relationship. It was obvious what I should do.

Maybe, if I could earn Isabella's trust, I could use her to get close to Alice.

And then I could finish what I came here to do.

Emboldened by my new resolve, I attempted to engage my plan B escort in conversation. "So, now what do you do?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously, and I caught a wave of barely controlled temper. "Now, I babysit you."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. I'd been expecting a sycophantic kiss-ass in Aro Volturi's personal schmoozer. Isabella's uncensored honesty was a nice surprise.

"I meant in the organization."

"General security, mostly," she replied, studying me with a quiet intensity in her eyes. "I don't do a lot of recruiting."

"You're good with a gun?" The interest in my voice wasn't forced. Isabella was glamorous enough to make a man pant like a dog in heat, but she didn't look like a fighter.

"I hit what I point at," she said bluntly.

"Good to know. Any special skills?"

The fury was back in her gaze, and I found myself wanting to wilt under the ferocity of that glare. I kept my face firmly on screensaver mode, though.

"_Special_ skills?" she hissed. I opened my mouth to protest when I realized that she'd heard an innuendo where none was actually intended, but she rose up onto her toes and pressed her body flush against mine, so that I could feel the heat of her through the thin layers of material separating us.

Her crimson lips brushed my ear as she whispered, "Actually, I do. I happen to be very proficient when it comes to knives. I could sever your head from your shoulders and slice off your testicles in the same movement, in half the time it takes you to even _think_ about blinking, if I felt so inclined. You'd die so quickly you wouldn't even know what had happened. And I wouldn't even get blood on my dress."

She settled back on her heels and grinned up at me as though she'd just promised to act out my most depraved fantasy, watching as the color drained from my face. Then, she stepped back out of my personal space and resumed her casual people-watching.

My heart stuttered weakly in my chest. One thing was for sure.

This was _not_ the woman I'd ordered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

_**Bella**_

The descent into Hell is easy.

I remembered that quote from somewhere. High school, I think. Back when I was still the girl who went to school, who got kicked out of class for shooting her mouth off, who ended up with more detentions under her belt than Gran could reasonably punish me for.

Back when life was simple.

Back when I knew who I saw when I looked in the mirror.

I hadn't looked in the mirror in a really long time. I hadn't had the chance.

There was a time, before the basement, when I'd actually been sort of okay with syndicate life. Of course, I'd never truly _wanted_ it. I grew up in the south of the city, the only place unclaimed by either the Volturi syndicate's influence, or the Blacks'. The only place where the streets still belonged to the people that wore badges, not mob tattoos.

I'd been happy, living my sheltered life. I went to school, stayed out of trouble, hung out with my friends. Alice and I, we'd been a team. And then there was Angela. My best friend. She'd been the only girl at school who was weirder than I was. I was the rebel. She was the freak. Of course, none of that was her fault. It was her Skill. Angie had been a Seer. As in honest-to-God, no-bullshit could see the future. It fucked with her head. My parents' death fucked with mine.

She kept my temper in check. I kept her sanity intact.

Then Angie had been killed in the crossfire of a gang shootout when we were seventeen. That was when my illusions of a safe home were shattered. There was no such thing.

I learned kickboxing, and aikido, but even that didn't stop me looking over my shoulder. I became more like my big brother Emmett. Paranoid and always ready for a fight. Emmett taught me how to throw a knife and shoot a gun. I wouldn't leave the house without at least two knives stashed on me. Alice used to balk at my tough persona. But even then, I would never have signed on with the Volturi brothers.

When she was just starting college, Alice got into some trouble. She was always so naïve and impressionable, and it ended up biting her in the ass. Big time. Aro came for her, and he offered her a way out. He pretended he wanted to kiss her bruises and make them better, and she'd fallen for it hook, line and sinker. She'd signed her life away to him before she even really knew what she was doing.

I'd signed up later that same day, pretty much the second she showed me her newly inked tattoo. Alice was everything that was good and pure and honest in the world, and I knew that if I let her join the syndicate alone, she'd be eaten alive. So I gave up my rights to freedom, and devoted my time to kicking ass and taking names until I'd made my point to the other initiates. Nobody messed with either Alice or I.

I was an anomaly – the bitch with the mediocre Traveling Skill that had used her pithy retorts and swift uppercuts to impress and delight the Volturi brothers enough to earn a fast-track to the inner circle. I used it to my advantage – the higher up I was, the better placed I became to protect Alice. She became untouchable, in all senses, and I finally felt like selling my soul had been worth it.

Then I'd screwed up, and fallen down hard. All the way to the basement. Now, I really knew what they were all capable of. I'd done some dark shit in my time, but the Volturi boys took it to another league altogether.

But they'd snatched me back from the gates of their engineered Hell, and for one sole purpose.

And that purpose was currently standing across from me, his face getting grayer by the second in light of my seductively whispered threat.

I sipped from my glass of champagne and enjoyed Masen's shocked expression. I was enjoying it so much that I'd taken three more sips before I remembered that I fucking hate champagne. Seeing him squirm in discomfort was cathartic. For the first time since the basement, I actually felt a little more like myself.

That was until I saw Aro silently fuming at me from across the room. The smile slid off my face as he tossed his head in the direction of one of the shadowy alcoves, and I set the champagne flute on the table beside me.

"Um, I'll be right back…" Stomach churning, I turned my back on Masen and obeyed Aro's summons. I cursed myself internally as I made my way across the crowded room. I should never have risen to the bait – I'd known better. And my smart mouth had just succeeded in pissing my boss off royally.

A step away from him, he grabbed me by the elbow and steered me into the dark crevice in the wall. I tripped in the stupid stilettos he had forced me to wear, and I would've gone down on my face if his grip hadn't been forcing me to stay vertical.

My nerves were stretched to breaking point as he blocked me in, looming over me in a way that set my heart racing in fear. Snippets of the basement flashed before my eyes like a film reel, and it didn't take me long to glean from his expression that the bastard had backed me into a corner intentionally, just to see me sweat.

"What the hell did you just say to him?" he hissed. Aro's face was almost inhuman when it contorted in anger.

I thought about lying, feigning ignorance, but it was a pointless venture, because he'd know. Aro always knew. "He asked me if I had any 'special' skills." Which I was still seething about. He just came right out and said it! As if _special _was synonymous with _perverted_.

"Did I not make myself clear before, Bella?" His blue-black eyes flashed in anger. "I pulled you out of the basement for _him_. Your only use to me is in keeping Edward Masen sweet at all costs. No matter what he asks you from here on out, you answer with a smile, and the answer is always _yes_. Understand?"

I scowled.

"Do you fucking understand me, Isabella?"

"_Yes_," I spat, relishing in my brief moment of satisfaction at being able to throw the word back in his face.

His eyes raked me from head to toe, but without a shred of desire. For all his many insurmountable faults, Aro Volturi never even so much as glanced at a woman who wasn't his wife. He worshipped Sally like she shit gold and bled wine. "Good. Now get back over there and make sure Masen is eating out of the palm of your hand before the night is through. I don't care how you play it. You're vulgar and obnoxious, but perhaps that holds a certain crude charm for some men, so I won't tell you how to behave. Just know that if you don't seal the deal, I have a bullet in the basement with your name on it. And a vacant cot with Alice's. Got it?"

Too fucking right, I'd got it. "Yes."

His lips pressed together in a hard line as he stepped to one side. "Don't keep him waiting."

Taking that as the dismissal it was meant, I sidestepped through the narrow gap and headed back into the fray. That was the only way I could think of the party; as a battle to be fought. Every polite smile would hit its mark, and every swallowed curse would block a blow. That was the only way I could grit my teeth and survive the degradation that involved smiling inanely and spreading my legs on command for the man I had only exchanged a few sentences with.

I stopped by one of the little tables lining the dance floor to collect myself. Even _thinking_ about having sex brought back the flood of memories of James. It was always dark in the basement, so I'd never been able to see what he was doing. But I'd _felt_ it all; the sweat dripping onto my skin, the agony that each blow left. His invasion of my body as he ripped his way inside me, perverting the act that I'd once enjoyed. Perverting my goddamn soul, for good measure.

Nausea made my stomach flip over and over, and my hand tightened on the white tablecloth as I gripped it hard enough to leave an indent in my palm.

_Breathe, Bella. Just breathe._

Of course, I was getting ahead of myself. Masen hadn't actually asked for anything yet, but only a fool would expect that to mean that he wouldn't. And I was no fool.

As he observed the crowd with benign interest, my eyes took in Masen properly for the first time since we'd been introduced. It could be worse, I reasoned. He wasn't _bad_-looking.

In fact, Edward Masen was actually pretty damn hot, blessed with broad shoulders and firm muscles. His profile was strong, his jaw square, his smooth skin tanned to the lightest of golds. His hair was messily coiffed in intentional disarray, the oddest bronze color, and I was struck by the compulsion to run my fingers through it, just to see if it was really as silky as it looked.

Okay, well, that must've been the champagne talking. I could knock back vodka like it was water, but even a sip of anything fancy went straight to my head. Shaking my head, I tried to jiggle my brain back into sobriety. I needed to keep a clear head if I was going to succeed in this game.

And I had to be successful. Starting _now_.

When I was still a couple of feet from my goal, two slinking figures in matching black dresses slid between us, batting their eyelashes at Masen. I knew those two – Gianna and Renata. The skank twins – as Alice and I liked to call them when they weren't listening, and even sometimes when they were – were new to the syndicate, only here a year or so, and they were already on Aro's shit list for refusing to believe after one telling that a double dose of the voluptuous sin they were pushing wouldn't tempt him to stray from Sally.

Hence their eagerness to jump on anyone powerful or coveted, as long as they had a dick between their legs. Within about forty seconds of their ambush, Masen looked about ready to flee the premises. Sensing my opportunity to salvage his opinion of me, I swooped in for the rescue, pushing past the sluts to link my arm definitively with his.

"You'll have to excuse us," I said, but I didn't bother to elaborate with an actual excuse as to why. Mainly because I couldn't think of one, but also a little bit because I knew it would piss them off.

True to form, they sent twin sets of ocular daggers in my direction. I simply gave them a sanguine smile and steered Masen away, savoring my victory, small as it was.

Every day was a battle, and any victory counted in the syndicate life.

"Not that I don't appreciate the rescue," he said, as soon as we were out of their hearing range, "but in the interest of self-preservation, I'm forced to ask – exactly how armed are you right now?"

I laughed. I couldn't help it. His sarcasm was amusing to me, especially since it was layered with genuine worry. If Masen was afraid of me, I'd done something right. Or very, very wrong, depending on your perspective.

"I couldn't fit a gun into this dress," I responded lightly, careful not to actually answer the question. Aro had made it clear that I hadn't yet won back the privilege of carrying a weapon. Everyone had the constitutional right to bear arms, except in the syndicate – your rights went out the window when you signed up, along with your free will.

I felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that I was condemning the man beside me to the same fate.

Then I thought of Alice, and the guilt abated.

"I wasn't worried about getting shot," Masen replied, quietly enough that I wasn't sure whether he was addressing me or just mumbling under his breath. "Maybe ritualistically castrated and beheaded…"

I laughed again, only this time it was forced. "I'm sorry about the threat. I like to make an impression."

"Mission accomplished." He stopped walking to study my face, and I noticed for the first time how arresting his eyes were. They were a vivid forest green, and practically fathomless. They were also curiously unreadable, and I prize myself on being a good reader.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, after I could no longer bear his searching gaze. I didn't know what exactly it was that he was looking for, and when his expression cleared, I couldn't tell whether he'd found it, or I'd come up lacking.

"You're just not what I expected from Aro Volturi's envoy."

I twisted my mouth into a wry smile. "What did you expect?"

His eyes flickered to Heidi, weaving her way through a crowd of back-alley politicians with a stunning yet simpering smile stuck to her face. "Someone like her, I guess."

I cocked one eyebrow. "I'm sorry if I'm a disappointment."

"On the contrary." He grinned, showing off two dimples that somehow made his ravishingly handsome face suddenly cherubic. "I find you strangely compelling."

_Compelling _was probably code for _fuckable_. I'd done my best to look that way, to hide the scars and bruises with eye-catching clothes and expertly applied makeup. Unfortunately, the mental wounds wouldn't go so easily. They didn't make concealer for the brain.

"Well, lucky for you that I'm at your beck and call, then, and we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other better," I said, keeping my voice low and sultry. I'd never loathed myself more than I did in that moment.

I'd gotten my hands dirty so often in the last four years that I didn't think they'd ever truly be clean again, no matter how much I scrubbed. There was always the ghost of more blood spatters underneath each new layer of skin. I'd felt like a mercenary in my services, but never, not once, had I felt like a whore.

Until now.

Masen's brow was wrinkled in confusion, as though he didn't know what to make of my comment. He'd no doubt heard the implication, but he looked as though he didn't understand it. Or maybe he was just faking chivalry to make it seem more like a seduction and less like a sure thing.

He could do whatever he damn well pleased. I didn't give a flying fuck. To me, screwing Masen as I invariably would have to was nothing short of pressurized prostitution.

"I'm glad," he began again. "Because that means I won't have to sit there and pretend to enjoy getting my ego stroked like I would with Heidi. I was expecting that. Or someone more like your sister."

"Alice?" I checked, and immediately realized it was a dumb-ass question. Like I had more than one sister. He nodded. "Oh, no. She'd make a terrible guide. She doesn't really get out much."

"Out where?"

"Outside." I tugged Masen over to a pair of plush chairs that stood vacant by one of the little round tables set to the side, plucking two more glasses of champagne off a silver platter as a waiter passed.

"Why not?" Masen accepted the glass I offered him and sat down, swiveling to face me in his seat. I arranged myself in a ladylike posture that definitely felt alien, and pretended like I gave a shit about anything that came out of his pretty mouth.

"Because of the nature of her work," I replied without thinking. "Aro likes to keep her close at hand."

Too late, I realized how that must've sounded. His eyebrows rose.

"So, she lives here? With him? Do they… uh…?"

I fought a smile. He didn't want to finish his question. I couldn't decide if that was adorably old-fashioned or just annoying. "No, Alice isn't screwing the boss." He wouldn't, even if she offered. And I was one-hundred percent sure she wouldn't have offered in a million years. "She has a unique and highly prized talent. He keeps her close to keep her safe."

"Oh."

"And she doesn't live here. She lives with me. We have an apartment a few blocks away." I paused. "I used to live here, though."

"Oh," Masen said again. "Were you and he…?"

Was he too prudish to say the words, or just simply embarrassed by his own fucking nosiness? I couldn't tell. Either way, I was going to have some fun with him. "Do you ever finish a sentence?"

He sucked in a breath. "Were you sleeping together?"

"I've never lost consciousness in his company, no." I grinned, though it was a serious sentiment. I wouldn't dream of so much as blinking for longer than I could get away with around anyone with the last name Volturi.

Masen frowned, and the expression was surprisingly cute on him. "That's not what I meant."

"Then say what you mean. Don't stand in ceremony on my account," I retorted.

"You have no internal filter at all, do you?"

"And you _over_ think every word that comes out of your mouth," I observed. "I bet your inner monologue is driving you fucking crazy right about now. Work up the nerve to ask what you really want to know… and I might just answer."

He exhaled in frustration through his nose, shutting his bright eyes in an effort to mentally calm himself. I felt a little thrill at the fact that I was winding him up. Then, his eyes opened, and they were unexpectedly intense as he leaned forward and captured my gaze unflinchingly.

"Were you fucking your boss?" The words came out as a husky growl that unexpectedly made me feel a bit flustered. I shook it off immediately.

_Get a fucking grip, Isabella. _

I cracked a smile. "Hell, no, I wasn't! Aro doesn't screw around on his wife. Ever."

And I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot bargepole, if I had any other choice. Even if that other choice was death by disembowelment.

Judging from the wary look in his eyes, I could tell that Masen didn't buy it. That nettled me more than it should've. "You don't believe me?"

"I never said that."

"I can see why you want to know. It puts you in an awkward position, right?"

He raised one copper eyebrow again, amusement flickering behind the edges of his skeptical expression. "How so?"

"Well, you know that Aro wants you. He wooed you. Coaxed you down here. Gave you exactly what you asked for in an escort. But now you're stuck with the predicament of whether or not I'm his sloppy seconds. You would rather sample from new than buy someone else's used product, on the one hand. On the other, Aro offered you a gift horse, and peeking into my mouth would offend him. You want to play hard-to-get, but not difficult-to-stomach."

Masen's green eyes were huge. "And you think that _I_ overanalyze things?"

I smirked. "You asked."

Something playful sparkled behind his irises, and he turned his head to take a sip of his drink and no doubt collect his expression. "I have a feeling that won't be the last time I regret asking you a question."

Curiously enough, though, he didn't seem all too deterred by my abrasiveness. Even my threat from earlier hadn't fazed him for long. I got the impression that Masen was one of those guys who just breezed on through his life, getting along with everyone and never letting the bad stuff touch him.

And yeah, a part of me admired that a little. But most of me was fucking green with envy.

"Something you should know about me, just FYI. I either answer with the truth, or not at all. I don't lie, and I don't sugarcoat anything. So be very sure that you want to hear the answer to any question you ask me."

He looked at me again as I said that, and the appraising quality was back in the way his eyes swept over my face. Yet again, I couldn't tell what his final assessment was.

"I'll file that away."

"Be sure that you do."

Silence stretched between us then, and it wasn't particularly comfortable. I'd had worse, but the chatter of the party swelling around us seemed to make it infinitely more awkward. I took a sip of my drink, and grimaced.

Why the hell was I still drinking that shit?

Masen's laugh drew my eyes to his face. He was grinning like he'd just heard a particularly entertaining punch line. I got the distinct impression that I was the butt of the joke.

"What?" I demanded brusquely.

"You obviously don't like champagne. Why are you still drinking it?" His observation echoed my own thoughts. Curious.

"Alcohol is alcohol. It makes the dull and insipid seem more interesting."

He chuckled again, low and deep and apparently immune to the passive aggression. "Fair enough."

I decided that he might not be so terrible, if he wouldn't rise to my obvious baiting. Holding up my glass, I examined the bubbly liquid dispassionately. "But you're right. This stuff tastes like shit."

"So, what's your drink of choice?"

"Vodka," I answered immediately. "Straight from the bottle."

Masen pretended to crane his neck around the room in search of some. "Looks like we're all out." He shook his head in mock-regret, running one hand through his unruly, unusual hair.

I pulled a face. "Don't I know it?"

A slow smile crept its way up his cheeks. It was the kind of smile that spoke of sin and temptation, and I felt my body react to it with an instinctive tightening of my stomach muscles. I shook off the feeling as quickly as it had come. I couldn't afford to actually find him attractive.

"Surely there must be a stash hidden in this place?"

I could name the sparkle that lit his eyes then. Mischief. But pawing through Cai's private reserves would be a remarkably stupid idea, and he didn't even bother with Grey Goose. For that, I'd have to hit up Aro's liquor cabinet, and that would be even more moronic than the first plan. "Yeah, but it's upstairs. In Aro's office."

"So… what are we waiting for? It's not like this party is scintillating."

I blinked at him, and opened my mouth to tell him no, that it was reckless and idiotic. But the way he was looking at me, it was like the words were written on his face. _Dare you. _

"Alright," I found myself saying instead. "Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

_**Edward**_

It was surprisingly easy to sneak out of the party, considering that the whole thing was being held in my honor. Or, at least, that was the rumor. Isabella, no, _Bella_ – I'd heard her correcting the mayor's PA when she'd come over to greet us – was remarkably good at slipping under the radar.

We weaved through the crowd of partygoers, virtually unnoticed now that all the introductions had been made. I kept step with her, and I noticed that I could still see over the top of her head, despite her four-inch heels.

"How are we going to sneak in there?" I asked her.

"I don't know," she responded thoughtfully. I liked her voice. It was quiet. Considered, and maybe a little throaty. "I think we're just going to have to wing it."

The sentry poised at the foot of the sweeping staircase in the foyer was gazing absently off in the opposite direction when we emerged from the main hall. What a stroke of luck. Bella seemed a little unsteady in her heels, I noticed. I hadn't actually been watching her walk before. I reached out my hand to guide her into one of the alcoves lining the wall, but she stiffened before I could touch her.

Slowly, I retracted my hand. The flicker of alarm in her big brown eyes told me that I hadn't imagined her reaction. It was very real, but I sure as hell didn't understand it.

It caught me off guard that her reluctance actually seemed to bruise my ego. She was just a job to me – a pretty girl to charm until I could get close enough to Alice to put an end to the Volturis' reign of terror on the west side. She was my means to an end. But then, I was supposed to be nothing more than a job to her, too. She was a syndicate initiate. She probably did this sort of thing on a weekly basis, and was likely much better at it. She flirted and teased in an I-dare-you kind of way, gauging my interest, and she probably knew far better than I did how to stay detached from it all. How to charm without being charmed. Attract without being attracted.

So why was she so wary of physical contact?

She followed me into the alcove at a foot's distance. The space was cramped, but she took hold of my shoulders and turned me slightly, so that my back blocked most of her red dress from view. There was still enough of a gap left in the entranceway for her to escape, I noticed.

"That guard has probably been ordered to shoot anyone who tries to get past him," Bella told me. I had to check her expression twice to make sure she wasn't kidding.

She wasn't.

"Why? I mean, everyone here works for Volturi, don't they?" I checked. Bella smirked slightly.

"Yeah. Everyone except you," she pointed out. "But that's not the point. Aro's kids are asleep upstairs. Anyone who might endanger them would end up with a bullet lodged in their spine, even if they worked for Jesus Christ himself."

"Sounds like a real family man," I muttered dryly. Bella's lips twitched, like she was trying not to smile. I wondered idly what a genuine smile from her would look like.

I wanted to see for myself.

Ah, _hell_ no. I couldn't afford to start thinking like that.

_Focus, Cullen, _I reminded myself sternly. _You aren't here to make friends. _

I needed to get my head in the game. And to remember that it _was_ a game we were playing. None of it was real; the woman, the party, the champagne, the clothes – they were nothing but a pretty mask covering the face of the ugly beast that wanted to devour me.

It took me a second to snap back into reality, and when I did, I realized that Bella's lips were moving, and I'd missed the thread of the conversation.

_Good one, Edward._

"I have an idea," I said abruptly, cutting off whatever Bella had been saying.

"I'm listening," she replied, one mahogany eyebrow raised in challenge. That sultry smirk was still playing about her mouth.

"How about we make a run for it?"

She looked like she wanted to snort with laughter. "That's a truly terrible idea, Masen."

"Not," I qualified. "If you distract the guard. I'll sneak up and create some darkness, and you can shadowwalk after me."

"You want to use your Skill to get me up to Aro's liquor cabinet?"

Curiosity flared behind her eyes, and I knew right then that I had her. A piece of her character clicked into place in my head, and I knew instinctively that it wasn't an act, just like her hatred of champagne and her general distaste for parties were genuine.

Bella was a thrill-seeker.

"But he'd see you blacking the place out on his handheld monitor," she protested. "They're all hooked up to a live feed of the security cameras in all the main hallways upstairs, just in case."

I looked her steadily in the eye, careful to put just the right amount of nervousness into the Big Reveal that I had been planning since the second Aro said my talent had impressed him.

Everyone had thought I'd been showing off in the stadium. The truth was that I'd been dramatically underselling myself.

"No, they wouldn't. I… uh… I can throw it."

Bella's pretty eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Throw it?"

"The darkness, I mean. Like, I can create it in a place where I'm not actually standing." I hesitated. "Even… even through walls."

"No fucking way!" The astonishment etched across her face was either very well acted or completely honest. "You can really do that?"

"Sure. I could get us both there without being seen. You just have to promise not to tell anyone how much I can really do."

She tilted her head to one side, silky hair spilling over her shoulder. "How do you know I won't run and tattle to Aro that you've been underselling yourself?"

I gave her my best crooked smile, the one that Jasper often grumbles at me that 'it makes all the fuckin' women swoon'. I couldn't tell if it had the desired effect on Bella or not – she was difficult to read.

"I trust you," I said simply, careful not to overdo the fervor in the words.

To my surprise, she flinched like I'd hit her. "Don't."

Her reaction made me frown. "Why not?"

When Bella's eyes met mine again, they were unexpectedly somber. "You can't trust anyone here. Least of all me."

I had no idea what to say to that. I couldn't argue with her – it was a truer sentiment than any other at this party – but I hadn't expected her to come right out and say it. Not like that.

"Aren't you supposed to be telling me what I want to hear?" I teased, trying to break the sudden tension that had swelled between us, like the elephant in the room was trying to weasel its way into the alcove, too.

She grinned, all business again. "Yeah, but like I said, I'm honest. And if you really want to get us up there, then I'll distract the guard for a minute. Try and lead him away from the stairs. Then, when his back is turned, you haul ass up the staircase and do your thing. Got it?"

"Got it," I nodded. "How are you going to distract him? Flirt? Bring him a drink?"

"Nah," Bella shrugged. "He won't buy either of those things coming from me. I'm going to use the gifts that God gave me." She raised one slender finger and tapped her mouth.

I frowned. "Huh?"

"You'll see. Wait for the right moment, remember."

Then she turned and headed across the foyer without a backwards glance.

I tried not to watch her walk away. I really, honestly did. Needless to say, I failed miserably. Mesmerized by the swing of her hips, I didn't even notice that she was in position until she'd already walked straight past the guard without a word.

He called out to her, and she stilled. Game on.

Recovering myself, I thrust my hands into the pockets of my slacks and meandered through the thinning crowd towards the staircase. I could've pretended to be lost and in search of a restroom if anyone stopped me, but nobody did. I ducked out of the way behind a Roman-style pillar at the foot of the stairs and waited for the signal in their conversation.

"Look at you, all dressed up…" The guard was saying, arms crossed firmly over his chest as his eyes raked over Bella's satin-clad body. She stood firm; one hand on her hip, her chin up and defiant. "I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before."

His tone was neither friendly nor flirty.

"And you won't, ever again, if I have any say in the matter."

"You don't though, do you? You don't have a say in anything, anymore." the guard answered immediately. When she tried to move away from him, he grabbed her arm, and she jerked like he'd tasered her. His fingers clamped down on her skin, and in that moment I figured out why it was that she'd pulled away when I reached for her.

"Fuck off, Felix," Bella snapped, tugging her arm free and stalking off. Thinking her plan had gone awry, I started to follow, but I ducked back into the shadows when I saw that he was walking after her again.

This was her plan all along, I realized. She was going to distract him, not by flirting, but by pissing him off. She'd known that he'd follow.

I capitalized on the distraction as instructed, and hauled ass up the now unguarded staircase. I ducked into an alcove at the top of the stairs, hidden from the cameras but still able to hear the conversation going on below. With a bit of careful maneuvering, I managed to twist so that I could watch their interaction, too.

"I caught the show, you know," Felix was saying softly, like he didn't want anyone else to hear. Which meant he didn't have a clue that I was hiding just above him.

Bella went still, her fists clenching tightly at her sides. "Shut up."

He stepped up close to her, leaning down so that his lips brushed her ear. A shiver of revulsion coursed through me, and I had to strain to hear his next words. "All this time, you acted like you were so much better than the rest of us. Never letting anyone get a taste. Busting balls and splitting skulls and getting away with whatever the fuck you wanted just because Volturi liked you. Look at you now… how the mighty have fallen."

"Go fuck yourself," Bella hissed.

"Does the truth sting, Bella? The higher the pedestal, the harder the bitch on top of it crashes to the ground. Do you wanna know what we saw?"

"I want you to back the fuck off before I decide that your mouth looks a lot prettier with the tongue ripped out."

"That was some messed up shit, Bella," Felix continued, like she hadn't spoken. "I mean, I wanted to see you taken down a few pegs, but that was hard to watch. Even for me."

"You still fucking did, though, didn't you?" she murmured, her voice trembling with barely suppressed fury.

"Yeah, but I wasn't like some of the guys. They brought popcorn."

Bella disappeared out of sight behind a pillar.

_Thunk! _

I peered around the banister to see her standing over the guard, her feet planted and her bloodied fist raised. Cold, undiluted hatred saturated her expression. He was barely conscious, eyes hooded over. She stepped over him, and when her heels started to clack away across the floor, I knew it was my moment.

I called up the darkness around me, feeling it hum under my touch. The shadows deepened, grew richer and more authentic, until I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. Then I pushed it forwards with my mind, extending it like a blanket that reached out, out into the corridor beyond, obscuring the security cameras' visibility entirely.

A moment later, I felt Bella step through the darkness I'd created. She stumbled, disoriented by the total lack of light, and my arms shot out instinctively to catch her. I gripped her by the waist for a few seconds, ensuring she was steady on her feet once more before I released her. My hands kind of tingled, like an aftershock. She immediately ran to the first door on our left, tugged it open and yanked me inside by the wrist.

With one hand, she flipped the light on. I saw that we were standing in what looked like a gentleman's club, complete with plush purple curtains, billiard table, and gleaming chestnut bar. The liquor cabinet that stretched the expanse of the back wall was full of every drink known to man.

I gaped in reluctant awe. Smirking at my expression, Bella balanced on one foot and hooked her fingers through the straps on the back of one of her shoes. My eyes followed the movement. She had really great legs.

_Head in the game, Edward. _

I averted my eyes while she took off her other shoe and transferred them both to one hand.

"I fucking hate high heels," she grumbled. I tried not to smile at her tone. Setting her shoes down on the billiard table, she turned to me, arms folded loosely across her chest. "That blinding thing was impressive. No wonder Aro wants you."

"He's not the only one," I told her. Her brows rose in interest.

"Oh? Who else is courting you, Mr. Masen?"

"Billy Black, most notably," I shrugged, feigning disinterest. "His son Jacob has already had a crack at getting me to sign up with the East Side."

"You don't want to work with Jake," Bella practically spat his name. "Trust me."

"I thought you said I couldn't trust you?"

She smiled ruefully. "You can on this."

"Well," I said reasonably, moving to examine some of the liquor bottles in the cabinet nearest me. "I'd hardly expect you to endorse the competition."

Bella took a step towards me and lowered one of the straps of her dress, exposing her creamy shoulder, and the puckered pink scar at the edge of her clavicle. "The fucker shot me."

"Jacob Black shot you?" I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice.

"Two months ago." She tugged the strap back into place and rounded the billiard table, taking up the position of bartender with her palms flat on the varnished bar top. I moved across the room and settled in one of the stools in front of it, swiveling the chair to face her.

"What happened?"

"Just your typical clash of the Titans. He fights for one side, I fight for the other." But there was something in her eyes that made me wonder how truthful she was being. I knew she didn't lie – she'd told me that herself, and even if she hadn't, I'd have intuited as much within a couple of hours anyway – but her truth in this instance was not the whole truth and nothing but.

"Did you at least get a couple of good hits in?" I asked.

She snorted. "You know the scar on Jake's cheek?"

"The one that looks like someone bisected his face from mouth to cheekbone?"

"That's the one." Bella gave me a self-satisfied smirk, and I caught on to her inference.

"That was you?"

She nodded, mahogany hair bouncing with the motion. "Yup. So, what'll it be?"

It took me a second to realize that she was waiting for my drink order. "Oh, um, scotch?"

Cue dramatic eye-roll. "Of _course_." She unhooked the latch on the cabinet to her left and extracted a bottle, and disappeared under the bar. A moment later, she emerged with a short glass in her hand and began ladling ice into it with a pair of silver tongs.

I didn't bother to tell her that I drank it neat. I was trying to keep her happy enough that she'd want to let her guard down, and it was beginning to sink in for me that _happy_ and _Bella_ were almost mutually exclusive concepts.

After pouring a generous helping of scotch into my glass, she pushed it towards me.

"Thanks." I took a sip. God, that stuff was great. Cai had good taste.

"You're a walking cliché," she told me, amusement dancing in her eyes. She set the half-full bottle down beside me and headed back to the cabinet in search of a bottle of Grey Goose.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a wild card," I replied airily.

Vodka in hand, Bella hopped up onto the shiny bar, resting her now bare feet on the chair beside me. "Sure, sure. You're full of surprises."

Her sarcasm was lost in the larger irony of that statement. Here she was, thinking that she had me pegged to a T, when really, everything she thought she knew was all one big lie. She'd never be privy to the monumental surprises I was actually hiding.

"Will we be in trouble if we get caught?"

"We won't get caught." Bella unscrewed the lid of her bottle and took a huge gulp, followed by two more. She didn't so much as flinch. I smirked at her. "What?" she demanded.

"You drink like a man," I observed, thoroughly entertained by that fact.

"Yeah," she said belligerently, taking another gulp as if to make some sort of point. "And?"

"You curse like one, too."

"And you sound just like Alice." The words seemed to leave her mouth without her volition. Her eyes widened, and she took another swig of vodka, as if at a loss for anything else to do.

"Is that a bad thing?" I wondered. Bella actually smiled. She didn't show teeth, but it was the first warm expression I'd seen from her. I was struck by the desire to see it again.

"No, it's not. Ali just acts like my fucking mother sometimes, you know?" She adopted a high-pitched voice very unlike her own throaty timbre. "'Bella, you really should wear dresses more, you look so pretty!' 'Bella, do you have to talk about disembowelment when we're eating breakfast?' 'Bella, do you really think it's necessary to swear twice in every sentence?'"

"And you don't find that annoying?" I wondered. It didn't seem to fit with my perception of her. I could tell from a mile away that Bella Swan didn't like to be told what to do.

Her finger traced the bottle rim, and she didn't meet my eyes as she answered. "No. It's nice to have someone looking out for me all the time."

The flash of vulnerability in her voice made my heart ache painfully. My fingers itched to brush back the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of her face, to pull her into my arms and tell her that everything would be okay.

I swallowed that impulse. She was a means to an end. I couldn't care about her.

As if she'd realized what she'd said, she seemed to snap back into saleswoman mode instantly. The shutters came down over her eyes, leaving them curiously blank. "So, what do you think so far?"

"The Volturi syndicate really does have the best of everything. And everyone has been very hospitable."

"But there's something holding you back from signing," she surmised shrewdly.

"Well, yeah."

Spreading her palms wide, she yielded the floor to me. "Tell it to me straight, then."

"Uh… it's the indentured servitude part that I'm balking at, to be honest." And there was no way of dressing that up as anything prettier than what it was. Alice would use her Skill to bind me to Volturi, if I joined. Her compulsion could make a person do anything she wanted them to, for as long as she wanted them to do it. It was unavoidable. Her power was so strong that it even came out in the written word, which was why she drafted the Volturi contracts. Anyone who signed on the dotted line, she owned, body and soul. And since Aro Volturi owned her…

Bella was watching me like she was thinking the same thing.

"I know what you mean," she muttered.

In my experience, there were only three types of people who signed on to syndicate life. The power-hungry, the foolish and the desperate. I wondered which one fitted the woman sitting opposite me. I already knew that Bella Swan was no fool, and she didn't seem to care much about the fact that she was no longer on top, bar the way her peers sneered at her, so that only left desperate.

"Look, I'm going to level with you," she sighed, leaning closer. "You were a complete moron by going on the nightly news and revealing your Skill to every suped-up syndicate that's recruiting, and you're never going to be able to undo it. They all want you, now, and I mean, they all really fucking want you. One of them will eventually get you, whether it's your choice or not. You'd be better off picking now, while it's still your choice."

I pressed my lips into a thin line. "That's bleak."

She shrugged. "Welcome to life outside the law. You want my advice? Set your own terms now, with Aro. Everyone knows the Volturi have all the power around here, and if you hash out a contract before this visit is through, then you can milk it for all its worth. You could pretty much ask for anything."

Bella's mouth was a couple of inches from mine. I expected to be able to smell the alcohol on her breath, but I couldn't. The urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming.

"What I want, Aro won't be willing to give," I murmured, and Bella's eyes widened infinitesimally.

"He'll give you anything you ask for."

"Not this."

"I wouldn't be so sure. What is it that you want most? What's your heart's desire?"

She was beyond beautiful when she said that. The way her eyes lit up was as intoxicating as the scotch I was still sipping. Maybe more so.

But my heart's desire was justice. For the only girl I had ever loved. The girl I'd wanted to stand up in front of friends and family and swear til-death-do-us-part, only that moment had come far, far too soon. I wanted Tanya's death to mean _something_ beyond the senseless, heinous violence.

No matter the parade of untoward thoughts dancing through my head when I looked at the fierce, bright girl in front of me, I wouldn't be tempted, I reminded myself.

I hadn't come to be recruited by Bella Swan.

I'd come to kill her sister.


End file.
